


Pillar of Salt

by dorking



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Ending, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Spoilers, Torture, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorking/pseuds/dorking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After fleeing Kirkwall, Hawke looks back as Anders grows distant.<br/>/unfinished forever/ sorry/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Run

**Author's Note:**

> sexual content and/or violence in later chapters

It was dark and deathly quiet, except for the light of the crackling fire keeping Hawke warm. Anxiously, he waited for Anders to return to their camp carrying an armful of logs or branches. His eyes were growing heavy as he watched the fire writhe about before him, he tried not to be sucked into that world of changing colour. Reds mixing violently with yellow and orange, the occasional blue explosion disrupting their dance. Hawke shifted uncomfortably, he thought of the debris flying from the Kirkwall Chantry, spewing chunks of flaming rock out into the city. Still, he had a hard time accepting that such a caring, fragile man could possibly find the resolve to bring about such ruin. Hawke then thought of Justice; blinking heavily he accepted that his life was already aflame.

Here he was; a runaway champion, and an apostate accomplice. Secluded in the dead of night, hidden within the murky green depths of the Planasene forest.

He glanced away from the fire, feeling the welcoming cool air of the night tingle on his cheeks. Breathing deeply, he grimaced, holding back a yawn. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering how Anders had grabbed his hand so tightly as they fled Kirkwall together. It was made abundantly clear that this was Hawke's choice, he decided to stay with Anders; he doomed himself to fate of a fugitive, to the love of a terrorist. And yet, Hawke had turned to look back at the chaos they had left in Kirkwall. They'd just gotten to the top of a nearby cliff, Anders collapsed from exhaustion, but Hawke froze and turned his head. He'd never forget that sight; the smoky air rising from the city as he stood in the misty fog of the morning. He remembered the dampness of the dew in the grass, the sun hot and bright rising over a city he had very well abandoned forever. Something in his heart changed; for the first time since Ferelden Hawke pined for a home, he pined for his mother and his sister. 

But now they were ghosts haunting him from the past; he felt as though he could just join them once again if went back to Kirkwall, he'd go back to his estate and they would greet him. Carver would be sulking, but his love would be shining through his templar armor. 

Hawke gasped himself awake, his chest was thumping and a sharp pain hit his lungs when he gulped the cold wet air of the forest. He scrambled for a minute, blind to the dark and disoriented as to where he was. Finally he remembered; he was with Anders, or he should be. Hawke became painfully aware he was alone; the fire had gone out and the forest seemed so much larger than it had before.

"Anders?" he whispered, but there was no answer. He scrunched his face in fear.

It had been two weeks since they escaped, and each day Hawke felt as though Anders was running from him; his pace was always quick, his words were murmured, his body felt like cool ash when Hawke touched it. Still he ached for the mage, he was fearful of all the terrible possibilities that every turn they took presented. Hawke feared Anders had met his fate out in the woods, alone. He drew his knees close to his body and settled further into his robes.

He was immediately roused from his worries when he saw a light in the distance, it was moving towards him. He sucked in his breath, his movements ceasing, it could be anyone, an enemy passing by. The light came into the clearing of the camp, and Hawke breathed out with a sigh of long relief. Blonde hair was highlighted by an unearthly blue gleam coming from a staff; it was Anders, with the fire wood.

"Oh Maker, Anders!" Hawke stood and paced over to his lover, reaching for his hand. Although Anders didn't retract from the contact, Hawke could feel the other's body tense uncomfortably.  
  
"I should have been faster, I didn't mean for the fire to die before I returned" Anders slipped through Hawke's grasp with ease, piling the wood into the pit and igniting the flame once again with a flick of his staff.

Hawke stood behind him in the highlights of the darkness, he almost felt outside himself. Anders was here, and real. He wasn't dead in the forest bled dry by some bandit or wild animal. He was more relieved than he previously believed.

"I'm sorry for falling asleep and letting it go out like that, where did you run off to in the middle of the damned night anyway?"

He couldn't see Anders face, but he saw his head dip slightly in some internal shame "I didn't run off"

"I was worried what might have happened to you" Hawke reached out to touch Anders shoulder, but the other man was already striding away.

"You should go back to sleep Hawke. I'll keep watch" Anders turned and gave Hawke a forlorn, crinkly smile "I won't go anywhere else, I promise"

Hawke let his arm fall back down to his side, Anders never slept any more. At least, he was always asleep after Hawke and awake before him. He rarely ate meals, and his face was beginning to thin around his cheeks. He looked sallow, defeated. For the first time, it struck Hawke that Anders would eventually succumb to the taint in his blood. He looked mortal.

"W...won't you lie with me Anders?" Hawke released those words in barely a whisper, but the other had already settled on the other side of the camp, away from the makeshift bed.

 Anders opened his mouth several times, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as if his heart was trying to leap out towards Hawke.

"I think we should probably keep the noise to a minimum, love" he joked, his way of soft rejection.

Hawke felt his lip twitch at the corner, his body felt warm again somehow "I'm not the loud one Anders" he took a few strides over to where Anders had nestled so purposefully away from him. He leaned down and captured the others mouth without hesitation; he felt his companion open that warm entrance with a gush of breathy air. He let his tongue do the work; as always it filled in the gaps between words he couldn't utter. Words for love that didn't exist. He pressed his hand on Anders cheek, stroking his face with a gentle thumb. Anders hands were wandering all over Hawkes back, letting the other man settle a knee between his legs. Hawke breathed through his nose, kissing Anders deeper than before, the healer let out a long moan into his mouth "Yes...Maker have me...". Hawke took this time to press his thigh against the others crotch, he could feel something half strained and warm developing there. Anders replied with an unthinking buck of approval, the contact made him rut against Hawkes thigh instinctively. Anders let out a loud choked noise, his breath hitching temptingly.

Suddenly Hawke was pushed away rather forcefully, he lost his balance and fell on his arm.

"No...I said no...if we're...if I'm too loud someone will hear us" Anders had stood, backed up against the tree liked a cornered animal.

Hawke stared at him, flabbergasted from the ground "Anders, it's alright. No one is going to find us here" he sat up, rubbing the arm he'd fallen on.

Anders frowned deeply, not able to meet his lovers eyes. There was an anxiety eating away at his heart, and clearly he didn't trust Hawke with the truth of his troubles. He looked ill, a pallor was rising in his face, creasing it with wrinkles.

Hawke felt frustration bubbling in his gut; and not because of his fading unattended erection. "Why are you doing this?"

There was no answer Anders felt fit to give, he remained guarded, and armed with a litany of false excuses.

Hawke bit his his lip "Do you not want me as your companion Anders?"

"That seems like quite the conclusion to come to from just one round of rejected sex, love" the reply was shaky.

Hawke stood, "It's not just that, you've been avoiding me. I see how you turn away from my eyes, you walk farther and farther away from me when we travel. You never sleep near me, let alone with me anymore. I haven't seen you eat in the last four days! Dammit, just tell me what's wrong! If you didn't want me beside you, why did you let me follow you out of Kirkwall! I left everything behind to be here for YOU!" he felt his face flushing with anger, a fist curling against his robes the other hand pointed accusingly towards the mage.

There was a long silence, Anders looked as though he was ready to flee at any moment.

Finally "...I told you I'd break your heart"

Hawke felt his anger crumble into a million pieces "so...that's it?" his voice had somehow turned into a whimper

Anders said nothing.

"I didn't think it was possible to do it twice" Hawke uttered distantly

Anders grimaced "So you do blame me for what happened in Kirkwall, you hate the fact that you're with a mage, and a criminal. I know how much home meant to you, and yet I destroyed everything you had left. But still you followed me out here...I can't trust that kind of love Hawke."

"What happened in Kirkwall was your doing!" Hawke watched Anders bottom lip begin to tremble.  
  
"But I don't hate you Anders, this is stupid! If I don't have a home, fine yes, it broke my heart to see it burn...but if I don't have you at least...this can't be the reason. This can't be how you want to end this."

Anders carefully shifted his gaze up towards the sky "This is going to end painfully for us either way. Why don't you just go back to Kirkwall, tell them you ran after me to get revenge...you could go back and fix everything I ruined"

Hawke was speechless, these weren't the words of the man he loved.

"Just go Hawke, if you won't leave then I will." 

Hawke remained still, unable to find it in his body to lift even his finger.

Tears began pouring from Anders face, it shocked Hawke back into action "No...no don't cry" he grabbed the sides of his lover's face tenderly, wiping away the wet streams of salt. All that had been said was gone from his mind at the distress of the man he loved "You're a grown man...please don't cry. I didn't mean it...Anders I love you", Hawke begged.

Hawke was sent flying back through force magic; his back hit the tree opposite to them painfully.

"No!...no...It is done...I'm so sorry, goodnight." The mage turned into the darkness of the woods and fled.

Hawke gasped, too winded to even say goodbye.

 

 

 


	2. Journey of Unease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke makes the decision to return to Kirkwall.

The moon hung heavily over the Planasene forest, bright and full; trickles of it's light managing to spill through the thick branches weaving the sky out of view. Everything was a lush deep green, in the dead of night it was indistinguishable from the darkest black. The wind murmured through the trees, too shy to interrupt the forest's solemn silence; it was nearing the end of summer, something cool and muggy hung in the air. The smell of mud and stagnant water rose from the warm ground, with a touch of crispness to compliment the oncoming fall.

Down in the pits of the overgrown woods, a man was fumbling and shouting frantically; disturbing this careful composition between sky and vegetation.

"I fell in love with a man! Not a coward!" he swung a torch around in the darkness. No response, just the echo of his own voice calling back to him. "Wait...please, I'm not angry with you...I don't hate you...how can I hate a mage when I am one myself? Have you forgotten?" He quickened his pace over the fat roots winding across the mossy forest floor. "Please just...come back...you said..." Hawke panted, whining pathetically to the night. Truthfully, Anders had said many things, many words that Hawke began doubting these last few weeks. He felt abandoned, confused...betrayed. Not much different than when he'd been looking back down at Kirkwall smouldering below that wretched cliff. He would always regret looking back.

Anders had this noble intention to do something greater than himself, and by extension, something greater than their love. Hawke believed it would have ended at the Chantry, but now he was beginning to understand; or rather accept, that so long as Justice was between them, Anders thirst for vengeance would never stop. Hawke was warned so frequently he began to dismiss it.

Maybe that had something to do with his upset; maybe, but Hawke guessed he wouldn't have the chance to find out.

He frowned, pulling his face taught with despair. Acknowledging this dismal silence would surely destroy him. He turned back towards the camp, still dimly lit through the trees, the fire Anders had stoked back to life burning in the distance. It wasn't too far, but the walk seemed terribly long. The forest was unwelcoming, it looked as though it had grown 50 times larger since Anders had left. There was no sign, no pale blue light emanating from a staff...no man with faded bronze eyes to welcome him in the morning. He trudged back through wet soil and dried grass, finally collapsing down onto the make shift bed after tossing his torch into the fire pit. He felt like laying there for eternity, or until Anders came to pick him up gently and tell him they were still in love. He would come back to Hawke, his eyebrows sagging on his face above his rounded, watery eyes. He would place a hand on his back, rub it tenderly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Anders would return by the time morning came around.

Right.

Hawke groaned into the ground, his body felt like it was on the verge of throwing a downright fit. He slept restlessly that night; endlessly dreaming of Anders. His partner; his friend...his everything. He dreamed he could feel his lover; they were in Hawke's soft Hightown bed, nesting in eachothers arms. Anders had always been muscular, but not to the same degree as Hawke. Hawke was broad, built and visibly muscular, while Anders was lithe and toned; his body was thin and powerful, handsome. Hawke leaned over and kissed the top of his head, that shaggy blond hair all undone; he never understood why Anders always tucked it away in that embarrassingly short ponytail, he looked so much more enticing with his hair all a mess. He could feel the other man breathing evenly between his arms, he never looked more relaxed than when he was asleep. There was always a darkness clouding his eyes that crept in once he opened them; Hawke rarely saw Anders genuinely smile about anything, it used to be so easy to make him smile. Anders awoke and turned towards his lover, blinking sleepily " G'morning my love", Hawke was breath taken. The light through the window complimented those blonde tresses, rough peachy lips parted so slightly; Hawke bent down and crushed them with his own, inhaling deeply, panting, grabbing the other man with affection. Kissing Anders was certainly ranked as one of his favourite pastimes, the healer didn't exactly melt in his embrace, but the sounds he made always betrayed his actions. Oh those sounds...

Hawke jerked awake, something was off. The sun had replaced the moon, it's rays cracking through the foliage up above. He turned his head and surveyed the camp, he was still alone, albeit the forest had grown noisy with the sounds of it's natural inhabitants. Hawke became aware that he was holding something, it was slick with sweat from his palm, apparently he'd been gripping the tiny metal object quite tightly. He opened his hand to find a key, his key to be exact; the one that opened the cellar of his estate into Darktown. He'd given it to Anders not so long ago, and somehow it had ended up back in his possession.

"Hello?" Hawke dared not call out that name one more time, if anyone responded at this point he might even feel mildly better. Although, he was without his staff, if he were to alert some odious characters he might not stand a chance.

_Let them kill me then_

No, that wasn't really what he wanted; he was miserable, defeated and bitter about the argument last night but that didn't mean he wanted to die. He looked back down to the key, nearly throwing it into a puddle in disdain. Anders had still been around last night, waiting for Hawke to slip into sleep so he could gather his things and leave him once again. It dawned on Hawke, perhaps Anders had tried to flee before the argument...that would explain why he'd been absent for so long.

_Coward_

Hawke picked up whatever remained at the campsite, and set off towards the edge of the woods. He'd make his way towards the Wounded Coast and orient himself home from there. It was a reckless idea really, returning to Kirkwall meant certain doom for Hawke. Either he'd be welcomed as a hero by the mages, or he'd be captured, tortured, and killed by the templars; he had no idea what kind of tumult the city was in right now, by the time he'd return, it would have been at least a good month since he had been gone. And he was well aware of how they were being hunted, they'd gotten into so many battles with nameless people Hawke could no longer keep track; that was how he'd lost his staff, it had snapped in two right in the heat of a fight. Would he willingly return to a city he'd had a hand in destroying, defenceless and alone?

Where else could he return...the more Hawke thought about it he knew wasn't really alone. He still had friends, Varric was no doubt lurking near or around the area. Merrill might have gone back to the Dalish camp in Sundermount, he could go there. Carver...

Yes, his brother had stayed in Kirkwall to mediate the fighting. They hadn't spoken before Hawke left the city, they never said goodbye. The more he weighed his options he felt like Kirkwall was, at the very least, the place he should go before heading out for Ferelden. He would gather supplies and slip incognito onto a boat...or something. He wasn't even sure if they were allowing ships to leave port at this time. Venturing south-west towards Orlais right now was out of the question, he'd be dead within days. Kirkwall at least offered him a place to gather supplies, a chance to speak with one of his allies. He could sneak into his estate through Darktown, using the gift Anders had so helpfully returned.

He tried to convince himself that he was doing this on his own volition, not because Anders had spouted out this thoughtless idea in the middle of an argument. He was going to Kirkwall because Anders had abandoned him, so he could gather supplies and head back towards Ferelden. At least there he might not be so conspicuous...he might even go back to Lothering.

He could go anywhere without Anders.

Somehow the thought was foreboding, it settled unhappily in the back of Hawke's mind as he wandered off into the wilds.

 

Anders _had_ watched Hawke sleep that night, not in a creepy sort of way of course. The way one might expect a devoted lover to...

But they weren't devoted lovers. Not anymore; it pained Anders so badly. How could he be so stupid, after saying all of those things he grew to regret. In his heart, his mind, he knew that Hawke would be happier like this. It didn't matter what words they'd exchanged, what kisses lingered on his cheeks and lips. He loved Hawke more than anything, more than justice...and that was his only purpose in life now. He was a vessel for his spirit, he couldn't have the life he wanted...like he said, it was killing him.

He laughed bitterly, his life was ending one way or the other; not quickly either. The darkspawn taint in his blood was making him weaker, in 10 years time...maybe less, he'd be dead. Perhaps he'd only lashed out at Hawke in a fit of existential crisis. No matter now, he couldn't take back the words he'd said, he even held up to his lover's pursuit of him. He hid, and blocked his ears, like a tiny scared child. Those cries certainly would have brought him back to Hawke...the way his voice wavered over the thick quiet of the trees.

Anders left in a fit of nerves as the sun rose, Hawke would would be able to see him easily in the daylight. He was sure to put enough distance between him and the other man by the time he'd be awake.

For now, Hawke was safe, even without a staff he was a capable warrior. Anders trusted that, he had to in order to reassure himself. He headed out towards the Vimmark Mountains, hoping to reach Nevarra and eventually Tevinter. It would be a long journey, he'd keep his ear to the ground for any news about the exiled Champion of Kirkwall. Reflecting on the argument that night, he only hoped Hawke wouldn't feel bitter enough to actually follow that idiotic suggestion of returning to Kirkwall.

_Stupid idea...stupid._

The more Anders dwelled on the subject, the more he glanced behind himself. He felt uneasy...it wasn't unfathomable...

And returning the cellar key might give him the wrong idea. But returning to Kirkwall would surely mean death for Hawke, his lover wasn't so daft in the brain. Hawke was capable, thoughtful and smart, if not a bit childish at times.

 

_Childish?_

_  
_Anders bit his lip, but his feet kept him moving forward, farther and farther away from the only person who loved him now.


	3. Brewing Storm

Constant smoke hung in the air, the streets were all but quiet. Screams were heard drifting between buildings carried up-wind from Lowtown. Kirkwall was burning, it had been for the past few weeks. Riots were taking place regularly; tensions between the Carta, the Coterie, the Templars, and the apostates drove the city deeper into chaos. Very few places were considered safe in Kirkwall, outside of the now highly guarded Gallows; it was the last place the Templars managed to usurp from amidst the violence and form a base. Not much remained of what had once been Hightown, houses were either ruined or ransacked. The Amell estate was no exception, a large chunk of the library had been totally demolished; a boulder the size of a small boat sat comfortably in the middle of the rubble and fallen books. That didn't stop the space from having it's uses however; two men were inside arguing rather violently.

A dwarf was sat down rather sourly at a table in the main hall. His eyes were heavily bloodshot and glassy, his nose sitting like a red bullseye in the middle of his face. It was clear that at some point in the day he had been drinking, and perhaps still was.

Thick wet tears dribbled down into Bodahn Feddic's beard; he hiccupped pathetically in resignation. A young man, a Templar, with dark hair leaned against the wall opposite to the dwarf, staring at him in growing disgust. "Crying is not going to win me into your graces, Feddic". The Templar adjusted his shoulders, heavy pauldrons did not make for very fitting social attire, "This situation is humiliating enough for the both of us. You will comply" he clicked his tongue in annoyance. Bodahn sniffled, glaring harder at the unwelcome guest "I won't do a damn thing until you bring me back my boy". The man was visibly ruffled, his cheeks flushed, hissing "If you had agreed to our terms in the first place, maybe that freaky lad of yours wouldn't be where he is now! You're putting three men into very compromising situations for the sake of an _apostate_ "

Bodahn pounded the table wildly, making the Templar jump, "It's madness! It's known all throughout Thedas that dwarves cannot even connect to the Fade!"

The man moved quickly to the table where Bodahn was sitting, slamming his armored palms into the wood "You think I do not know it is madness?! A dwarf being accused of blood magic? These  _are_  mad times Feddic, and the clock is ticking down for all of us. Either you find the Champion like I requested, or Sandal will die due to your stubbornness. That's it."

"It was never my intention to betray Messere Hawke. But..." pain drifted over Bodahn's face, like a dark cloud over a meadow, "it was never my intention to let you bastards take Sandal either...is no one safe?"

There was a very uncomfortable pause. The Templar placed his hands back at his side, now unable to look the dwarf square in the eyes.  
  
"Remember that my life is on the line here too. If you do this for me...with me...I can at least guarantee Sandal's life."  
  
"Convenient for you that they took him in the first place isn't it? Just one thing to blackmail ol'Bodahn with, huh?"

The Templar composed himself, he could feel a creep of sweat forming underneath his armour. How afraid he was, the task he'd been given weighed heavily on his mind. It was something...monumental; for once in his life it was something only he could work. But, it was something he'd never be able to accomplish alone. Not that he wanted to really do it in the first place given the circumstances...

He was stirred from his thoughts at the sound of Bodahn's gruff voice."Fine you bloody bastard. I'll bring him here in a week's time. You're filthy, the lot of you Templar's"

"Knight-Commander Cullen wishes only to quell this rebellion, for the sake of preserving what's left of Kirkwall. I want much the same."

Bodahn frowned deeply at the table, unmoving. 

"You will send word for me at the Gallows when he arrives, and we'll put an end to this...unrest"

"Whatever you say, Ser Hawke...to think you'd hand over your own broth-"

" -DO NOT EVEN DARE...dwarf"

Carver Hawke left the property promptly, slamming the door behind him. Debris and dust fell gently from the cracking ceiling. Bodahn Feddic could not find it in himself to do much else, but muster a very heavy sigh. How sorry he felt for the two remaining Hawke siblings.

 

* * *

 

_A moon was shining through a small window high up on a wall, reflecting the eerie green light of water into the cramped cell of a jail. Dirty layered bricks dotted the background behind a darkened silhouette.Anders gripped cold metal bars tightly, his knees scratching on the dirty floors of the Gallows prison. His hands were touching those of the silhouette, they were large and warm; welcoming every pore of his skin. He found for a time, he could look anywhere but that persons face. Something was terribly wrong._

_Everything was blurry, was he crying? There was a muffled voice speaking to him, as hard as he listened the sound of the whole place was just thick. He felt as though his ears had been stuffed with cloth._

_"Yo...a...man...plea... cry. I didn't me...ders I lov...ou"_

_Anders looked up, and for a split second, faded bronze met deep brown._

_"Hawke...?"_

 

Something round and smooth slipped out of Anders' palm. He looked down, surprised that he had been holding something in the first place. An apple rolled across the counter after hitting the surface with a muffled  _thunk_. A merchant, a slimy looking fellow with thinning white hair, picked it up and placed it firmly back into Anders' open hand.

"You better buy it now that you've bruised it."

Anders was panicking, internally. He dropped some coin absently at the man, and turned away to find himself sitting in a tavern. He had no recollection of how he got here, wherever here was. Anders scanned the room, his mouth slightly agape, before he turned back to the bartender

"Did I...come in here...with a companion?"

The man ran a bony hand over his balding head, spreading what grease it could maintain to his fingers "No ser, you came in here  _alone_  not two days ago. Rented a room,  _alone_. Been eating  _alone_  too."

Anders furrowed his brow, he could feel his chest tightening. Something foggy was trying to resurface from his memory but it was so...far off.

"He'd be tall...er than me. Broad, black hair...brown eyes?"

The man at the counter shook his nasty head "I already told you, you've been here. _Alone_."

Anders pocketed the fruit and wobbled his way to the room which had his jacket in it. His knees were like jelly, his mind felt sick. He sat down on the musky bed, upsetting the thin layer of dust that had settled there already. Burying his head in his hands, he thought hard. Hawke was not travelling with him, but why? He'd lost time again, it seemed to be happening so frequently now, but he'd never have guessed he could lose more than just a few seconds. Anders felt very frightened. His heart was telling him that no matter what, he'd never willingly separate himself from Hawke.

No that wasn't quite right...come to think of it.

An argument drifted into his mind, the only evidence to confirm it's existence was his current solitary state. That's right, they'd exchange some unpleasant words because...He'd overreacted to...Hawke being Hawke. Anders grimaced sheepishly to himself, recalling his companion's warm touches.

He knew there was more to it, there was no way to place his finger on exactly what had transpired. The last few days were slowly coming back to him, but they were unforgivably vague in detail.

Anders took the apple from his pocket and had a reluctant bite, thinking of those greasy bony hands.

He clenched his teeth around the sour pulp, acid already forming in the pit of his stomach. Everything felt foreign, unsettled. He was deathly worried about Hawke, he knew his lover could handle himself but the fact that they were separated caused him great discomfort. Anders couldn't think of one proper argument he'd ever use to drive away his companion. He sworn his heart to the man, it's not like he was desperate to abandon him. 

He sat silently for a minute, munching on the fruit mindlessly. He tried pinning as much as he could together, no matter how hard he tried nothing seemed to add up very well.

He ruminated with great effort, the argument becoming slowly clearer. It wasn't as though he wasn't there when it happened, it was just like trying to look in at a memory as a third person. That troubled Anders further, he was well aware that he wasn't always in total control of his mental faculties. He just never assumed it would cause damage to the man he loved most. Anders knew Justice was a part of him, but whether _he_ was a part of _Justice_ remained in question.

His nose became slightly itchy, as it did whenever tears began prickling his eyes. His teeth ground together relentlessly.

_Kirkwall...Kirkwall_

_Why don't you just go back to Kirkwall..._

Those words kept swirling around in his mind, thickening the fog he was already in. Helplessness crawled under his skin, goosebumps forming on the back of his neck. Suddenly, Anders was overcome with a total numbness. The apple caught in his throat but he had no time to choke it down. He was receding back into that strange sleep, dreams filled with burning barns, prison cells, archdemons and darkspawn.  
He wanted to resurface and gasp for air, but something powerful had already taken a grip of his mind.

Anders fell into a deep quiet.

Justice emerged to complete the task at hand. He would let nothing stand in the way between himself, and the recruitment of rebel mages; in order to overthrow the injustice spreading throughout Thedas. There was some feeling of pity for Anders, but his pathetic infatuation with Champion mage was unneeded; it either had to be controlled or be eliminated entirely. The Champion posed too much a distraction to their task, he could not let his gracious host fall prey to such...human tendencies. It would be death to their cause if Anders succumbed to that messy trap of emotional affairs. Anders was better than that.

Justice was better than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay


	4. Unrest Along the Coast

 A cold wind was blowing in from over the sea, the water splashing around with enough menace to keep most sailors and fishermen at home. Dark clouds were scattered over The Wounded Coast, they had  been moving in from the north for longer than Hawke cared to remember. It was miserable, the path was soggy and wet; the dirt smelled faintly of rotten flesh, of all things dirt could smell like. Hawke found himself scrunching his nose so much his face was sore. He felt sick, the smell of the salty water, the ground, and the constant bobbing of the wagon was turning his stomach. Little flecks of mud kept spinning up off the wheels and sullying his robes, not that  they were clean, but it didn't make him feel any better.  It was drizzling to top it all off, and Hawke's mood was only worsened by the grumpy merchant who took a lot - _too much_ \- convincing to take this route with him to Kirkwall. Try as he might Hawke couldn't even summon little fire to keep himself warm; years of hiding his magic back in Lothering had weakened his skills without a staff. He wouldn't be reluctant to admit that he envied Anders for that; he had always watched on as the healer worked effortlessly through his hands over a patient.

Anders fingers and hands certainly had their charms over Hawke, especially in the bedroom. He found himself sighing dejectedly- "Oh will you shut up with your bloody sighing, Andraste's sweet ass, you paid me to put up with your presence, not your blasted misery"

Rolling his eyes, Hawke quietly smoothed a palm over his robes; it did nothing but spread the foul smelling mud deeper into the fabric. He was sulking, he wasn't so far gone that he'd deny that. He'd tried his damn hardest not to be sore over Anders' abrupt departure, but as the days rolled on he found himself longing more and more for his partner. He missed everything about Anders; he missed the way Anders would laugh at his sarcasm, the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled when he really smiled. The small space between both his eyebrows, how that always made him look concerned somehow. The feel of his rough stubble against Hawke's cheek; the wavering sound of his voice when he moaned as they made love. Hawke certainly missed the sex, he dwelled on it more than he'd like to admit. Anders had a way of making him feel...special. Even though all eyes in Kirkwall were on the Champion, whenever Anders glanced his way, the day always got a little bit brighter.

He could certainly use those sunny bronze beacons looking his way now. Hawke hated the increasingly cold weather, it reminded him of winter in Ferelden. He'd always spoken of Lothering so fondly to Anders it was strange that now...he was going alone and miserable. He always meant to return, but not without another body to help keep him warm on those long cold nights...

_I really need to stop doing this to myself_

Hawke bit his lip before he let out another sigh, instead a heavy breath went through his nose in a huff. Anders had left him, he shouldn't be so broken hearted. He knew he should be angrier with the man. If they were to ever cross paths again Hawke promised to himself that he'd let Anders have it for making him feel so rotten; like an abandoned kitten out in the rain...no one's warm neck to cuddle into... _  
_

_Stop, stop it Hawke. You sound like a simpering idiot._

Icy rain was now dripping down from his soaked hair. He'd have run his hands over his increasingly damp features, but he'd already gotten mud on them. Hawke pursed his lips, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his robe in an attempt to dry his face. 

"I've never seen the weather this miserable."

The cart jerked inappreciatively, "And stop with all that griping, you wanted to go by the coast Serah, you bet-"

It happened so quickly, Hawke didn't even register that he'd been sent flying through the air.

There was a dog barking, oddly, and then a forceful blast that threw him off the cart painfully onto a pile of rocks. Hawke wheezed violently, coughing blood, his hands groping to pull himself off the offending stones. No matter where he looked, there was so much blood, it seemed as though the poor merchant had gotten the brunt of the bomb. Was that it, had some actually _bombed_ the cart?

_Maker I can't believe with all the luck I've had so far, I'm going to be killed by bandits now._

 Hawke slumped over onto his side, agony seared through his skin into his lungs; he cried out, and for the first time in a while, tears sprung to his eyes. It seemed a few of his ribs had broken on the rocks. Falling onto his back, he closed his eyes, a strange darkness beginning to surround him. It was blurry and distant...but black as night. Perhaps he'd hit his head...maybe he was dying after all. He wasn't ready to be dead yet, he still needed to...

He clutched his side weakly, he had enough conciousness to feel pathetic. Hawke peeled his eyes open for a moment, briefly sending away the oncoming darkness. The wooden cart was burning. crackling in the rain; a hazy figure was approaching him. He could barely force the words of his incredulity out of his chest,

"Varric?"

The world faded as Hawke's eyes closed again, he was slipping into a beautiful unconsciousness.

This moment would be the only one of peace he would have in a long while.

 

* * *

 

Hawke wasn't sure where he'd ended up, but it was somewhere comfortable, somewhere that smelled familiar. It was quiet, and although he was emerging in and out of bad dreams, he was aware that someone was beside him, keeping him warm. He smiled to himself, unable to move or open his eyes, just rejoicing in the fact that he was alive. Over time, who knew how long, the darkness faded and Hawke could begin seeing more clearly. Moving his hand, he felt the body that had been so faithfully lying beside him all this time.

It was his mabari hound...diligent dog of his, he pet the soft coat gratefully. Hawke felt like he was home again.

His side was still impossibly sore, but the injury wasn't was terrible as he thought. Upon further inspection, he was bruised, severely. A long black shadow of purples, blues and reds was screaming at him from underneath his skin. His breathing was racked with discomfort.  It was all he could do to close his eyes again and hope for relief. Hawke had lost time and place, but not for too long. He knew now that he _was_ home, in the bed he left behind in the Amell estate. Something was a little different, the gaping hole in the ceiling certainly made the room draughtier, if not more open. There was a gnawing at the back of his mind, he wanted to be home, yes, but how had he ended up here so easily?

Someone opened the door to the room, puttering over to his side, they placed a damp cloth on his forehead. While it was a nice gesture, Hawke had no fever, and the wind blowing through the ceiling just made the rag cold. He slid the thing off his head and turned to see his nurse.

"...Bodahn?" Hawke's eyebrows nearly went through the roof with the draft. "Where...I thought you were Varric."  
  
Bodahn retracted his hand quickly, as if avoiding a poison bite from a snake; that or he was touching something he was unworthy of.

"N-no Messere...I haven't seen Varric...in a long time." The dwarf began fidgeting.

"Have you seen anyone then Bodahn? I need help." Hawke propped himself up on his side, wincing in the process.

Bodahn pushed him down back on the bed "You should rest Messere, no strain on your injuries."

Hawke massaged his temples, looking up at the canopy hanging from the four posts, there was still rubble straining the fabric. "What's happening Bodahn?"

There was a pause "I came just in time...you see your dog here went crazy when you left. I think he smelled you on the wind this afternoon and I couldn't keep him here no longer...led me right to you. I saw you on that cart, bandits blasted it to bits, good thing you were spared...I took care of the rest of them." Bodahn swallowed hard.

Silence followed as Hawke digested the story, his eye brows knit together suddenly "Bodahn...are you lying to me?"

There was something about the story, the convenience of it all...it was suspicious to Hawke but he just couldn't place _what_. The silence picked up where it left off, Bodahn was staring distantly out the now obsolete window. His lips were creased into a thin line behind his beard, it was the look of a man who had hardened himself in a short period of time.

"That's an odd thing to ask your loyal manservant isn't it?"

Hawke could tell from the slight slur in his words, Bodahn had been drinking "...I suppose it is. I'm sorry. I believe you Bodahn, I'm grateful you saved my life. Would you mind telling me anything you might know about my companions?"

The dwarf murmured "I haven't seen hide or hair of your lot..." his eyes dimmed, afraid of his next question "...why isn't Ser Anders with you?"

Hawke looked down and pet his dog, running his hand against the fur "We...had an argument..."

Bodahn glanced back to Hawke, a carefully built mask replacing his usual features "I'm sorry, it would seem you are alone for the moment Messere."

Hawke patted down the areas of the fur he'd disturbed, moving his hands over to smooth over the mabari's ears. The dog sighed happily, finally with his master, he seemed more content than Hawke could ever hope to be without....his companions. A sadness curled around his heart, the reality of never seeing his friends again was dawning on him slowly. At least when he was with Anders he could cope with the separation.

"Carver?" Hawke asked, leaning back into his pillow and closing his eyes. He couldn't see the nervousness, a telling redness in Bodahn's cheeks, beginning to rise against all the dwarf's best efforts "Ah...Ser Carver is with the Templars, on duty."

Hawke groaned, almost chuckling, "Must be hard for him the way everything went down. I bet he had to clean the Gallows privies for a week. My guess is that he probably won't want to see my sorry face."

Bodahn turned away, towards the door "I...don't know if I'd go that far Messere."

Hawke moved his head over to his manservant, and smiled, genuine "At least I have you, trusty Bodahn..." he yawned, his eyes drifting closed once again.

A chilled draft swept through the room, rattling the carefully settled debris around on the floor, as Bodahn left Hawke to an uneasy slumber.


	5. Time Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically just sexy content, enjoy!  
> and uh...the mabari's name in my DA games is always Dudley..just...so everyone knows.

Hawke stretched out in his bed, arms over head, indulgently cracking his spine in the process; proud of how the pain was subsiding considerably. His healing magic was slow and dull, but it did the trick well enough. His bruises were shrinking quickly. Hawke stayed in the house for the next couple of days, Bodahn was avoiding him as much as possible; outside of bringing him meals and the occasional drink. Hawke found the behaviour distracting and erratic. He did take into consideration that staying in Hightown awarded them no luxuries now; Bodahn likely had things he needed to attend to. The only extended amount of time they spent together was done while patching the hole in the ceiling, which was carried out in stony silence, much to Hawke's dismay. He knew they were just avoiding the topic of Sandal, if Bodahn was aware that Hawke wouldn't bring it up...he wondered if he could get the dwarf to spend some company with him. It saddened him deeply that his friend wouldn't seek some solace in his presence. Hawke felt he was the kind of man anyone could open up to...but that was just his wounded ego speaking. He settled back into his sheets, everything in the room was damp, even with the fire sputtering around in the hearth.

_Maybe it has something to do with me...probably not._

Hawke yawned.

This morning Bodahn disappeared as soon as he'd brought Hawke breakfast, scuttering away like a mouse. Not that he'd like to admit it, he  _was_ desperately lonely. He'd never gone so long without another person by his side. His mabari helped, it wasn't as though they could hold a conversation for very long, however. Speaking of his dog, the beast had gotten bored of sleeping on his legs and was now out in the hall sniffing around.

Hawke sighed heavily, nagging thoughts began swirling around in his head. His body was like lead and his heart like glass. At first the heart break was almost a novelty, as were most serious things; now that he had time to really think on it...Anders was  _gone_.

_For good_

They had no way of contacting each other, no means of communication. Hawke curled over onto his good side and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, they'd thinned over the time he'd been travelling, he was beginning to look gaunt. It wasn't a new look for him, the year he'd spent working for Meeran certainly left him and Carver scant on food; at least they made sure mother had been fed. Hawke smoothed out the empty pillow next to him, Anders spot. A blond hair was threaded in the case, he pulled it out gently, rolling it between his fingers absent mindedly before watching it drift down onto the bed. It's true Anders looked peaceful when he slept, but he told Hawke about the nightmares. It was something he'd gotten used to, he said...but no one really gets used to nightmares.

_Happy thoughts Hawke..._

So he turned his mind on the first night they'd spent together, how excited he'd been...the jumpy nervousness, the joy and pleasure.

The thought of Anders' hands sliding under his tunic, the smell of his hair while he bit Hawke's neck. A tinge of shame rose to his cheeks, it'd been so long since he'd touched Anders. That persistent gnawing thought of sex kept hounding him. He'd been dumped, all he could think about was sex.

That wasn't strictly the case...Hawke missed the intimacy of sex more than just the physical pleasure. It meant Anders was looking at him, wanting him, focusing on something outside of all his problems. It's not as though Hawke wanted it from just  _anyone_. There were things about Anders no one could replace, ever. His rough hands and the soft skin on his back, littered with tiny punctures and scars from battle. The smoothness of his thighs, stomach taught with pleasure whenever he came.

Hawke's hand had found it's way down onto his pants, he was teasing himself outside of the fabric. In a distant part of his brain, he acknowledged that Anders would be very angry if he knew what he was getting up to, for some reason. For all the perverse liaisons Anders had in Ferelden, he had become so serious about this kind of thing. Hawke found it both endearing and irritating.

He smirked, Anders could be shy in his own stupid ways sometimes.

Throwing all to the wind, Hawke went with his lust, pulling his swelling member out from his pants and giving it a few good tugs before settling into a rhythm.

He groaned thankfully, and began to fantasize about his first night with Anders...shy, naughty Anders...

*

They'd been exchanging rough kisses for a few minutes, broad calloused hands roaming anywhere they could touch. Short breathy moans sliding between tongues and lips, swelling from the insatiable contact. A heat was rising, compressed between their heaving chests; things were getting hot. The two men began pawing at each other, like beasts rutting for the first time in their lives. Anders clawed Hawke's shirt, pulling it open to reveal his chest, dark hair was dispersed amongst the blush creeping down his neck; his neck which had been so carefully nipped and bruised. Hawke was undressed first, leaving the man in his smalls for a short while.

"You're not going to join me?" Hawke smiled from underneath the blond, his words sounded like a secret, there was something strange about the look in his eyes.

"It's not that, my robes are just a bit-" Anders shoved off most of his garments "-more complicated than your house clothes, love." He managed down to his dark pants, hanging loosely at his hips. He crawled back on top of Hawke, kissing those reddened lips with his own. Panting into his lovers mouth, grinding his length against Hawke's own strained cock.

Hawke's breath became audibly erratic, he clutched at the other man's hips "Maker...Anders just take off your bloody pants"

Anders complied gratefully, experienced hands coaxing Hawke to lift his hips, in order to strip him first. Faded bronze sparked alive as Anders laid eyes on the others body. Anders couldn't compare in physical excellence; his own length was long enough but not nearly as thick as Hawke's. Hawke's posture, sculpted muscles, his whole being boasted manliness. Sucking in a moan, Anders wondered who had more experience.

His pants were off. Hawke pulled on the blond's hair, bringing Anders back to him with sense of urgency, crushing their lips together. Apparently he was as pleased with his partner.

Their bodies and chests sliding, sweating, moisture beginning to bead on their skin. Slowly, there was a hint of growing reluctance in Hawke's kiss. The healer pulled back, arms pressing into the mattress, pale freckled fingers winding themselves in dark short hair.

Something was off about Hawke this evening, Anders placed more kisses on those strawberry cheeks.

"Are you sure you want to do this ?" melted honeyed eyes were searching, trying to find any sign of uncertainty, any crease in that perfect flushed face.

Hawke's guard broke for a moment "uh...yes...Anders..." but he choked, and simply nodded instead.

Anders, shifting his weight to his knees and thighs, sat up and straddled Hawke. He ran his hands down the other man's chest, fingers catching in dense little hairs, extracting tiny noises as he toyed with Hawke's nipples. Those expert hands, trailing behind Hawke's back and finally, thank the Maker, palming his ass.

"I...Uh! Wait! Anders!" Hawke bucked away from the touch, Anders yelped in surprise; the sudden motion had temporarily thrown him off balance. Hawke was frozen like a deer, pupils dilated in chestnut rings; his  face was in an awkward grimace. It didn't suit him at all.

Anders cleared his throat, confused for half a moment before-

_Oh...maybe..._

"...is this the first time you've been with a man Hawke?" he asked incredulous, eyebrows raising almost imperceptibly. 

Hawke chewed his bottom lip, and turned away, embarrassed "...with a man...yes" he settled his hips back down, cradling his rear into Anders' palms. Anders gripped those cheeks firmly, leaning back over Hawke. Lowering himself, he licked and chewed playfully at Hawke's ear, a new fire stoked inside his belly "Would you think me a pervert if I found that...exciting?"

Hawke was turning into a mess of nerves, his eyes half-lidded "I already know you're a pervert" he joked, his voice wavering. Anders nodded, and shushed sweet words of reassurance in his ear.

"I'm going to show you things you've never even dreamed of my love."

Sucking on Hawke's earlobe, turning it raw before working down his neck and towards his collar bone. Anders bit at the skin there, little teasing love bites leaving Hawke trembling for more contact. Anders began wondering smugly if it was just an act, but Hawke was writhing silently by the time he had reached that little trail of hair below his navel. Anders kissed him gently there, Hawke exhaled fervently.  
Anders smiled,

_Maker, he is such a maid._

Hawke was in for a surprise, Anders briefly mouthed at his length, milking out any pre-cum from the tip, leaving it just moist enough to shine in the fire light. He noted that Hawke had taken a fistful of sheets when he pulled away,  a thin strip of spit falling from his moistened tongue. Anders couldn't help but grin wider, pushing Hawkes thighs open as he lowered himself further.

"Will you hold your legs for me please, love?" 

"What are you planning Anders?" Hawke looked a little hesitant, maybe desperate from all the teasing, but he did as he was told. Anders said nothing, instead he began sucking on the skin behind Hawke's balls, quickly moving his tongue even lower towards the tightened entrance waiting there. Hawke hissed, "Anders you shouldn't...Maker, that-" but he choked out once more, shallow breathing replacing coherent words. He clutched at his thighs, pressing his fingertips hard enough to bruise himself. He had an aura of  muted frenzy about him, any noises came only through fast and slow sighs. Hawke did not obey his instructions very long. Knuckles whitened, knotting themselves into those shaggy blond locks, messing them out of their usual ponytail. They were demanding hands, guiding and gratified. Anders hummed, focusing, feeling Hawke tense his muscles in reaction with the intimate contact. His cock was aching to get inside, but he took it slow; he wanted this to be as painless as possible for his lover. 

Gingerly, Anders pulled his tongue away and slid a finger inside Hawke, stretching and testing. Hawke hadn't been lying about this after all, something sweet fluttered inside Anders' mind. He was special, to be Hawke's first, right? He'd do a good job of making it memorable.

Hawke squirmed in discomfort, Anders knew the feeling all too well. It was a strange sensation to find pleasurable at the start. After he was satisfied with his progress, Anders pressed in a second finger; Hawke whimpered, a rare admission, but Anders could see he was still enjoying his service. Hawke's member was as hard as marble, stiff against his belly, droplets of pre-cum creating strings between his flesh. The blond crooked his fingers inside of Hawke, brushing slightly against  _that_  spot. Hawke arched, quaking in silence, heels finding their way to Anders shoulders; he was ready. Bringing his hands to Hawke's, he untangled his hair from the man's strained grip, sitting up once more.

Anders wrapped a firm grasp around his cock and guided himself towards that welcoming warmth. Easing himself gently, placing his hands on open thighs, he watched as Hawkes fingers scrambled to find some anchor. Hawke was lost in both pain and pleasure, finally linking himself around the healers wrists. His mouth was slack, open from the low gasps he stifled in reaction with every motion conducted inside him.

Anders let out a long unabashed moan, his secret was let loose. Any utterance from Hawke was out done, Anders shuddering noises of passion were relentless. In a brief moment of clarity Hawke wondered if they'd closed the door...

The men were all action now, Anders shifting in and out breathing in unison with Hawke, shining bronze locked with molten copper.

"Does it feel good ?" Anders groaned, relishing the heat tensing around his cock "It feels good for me"

Hawke could barely manage more than a delirious nod "It feels...alright"

Anders understood, his first time like this wasn't exactly as comfortable as he'd hoped. "We'll work on that", the blond promised. Pushing deeper inside Hawke, now nearly folded in two , Anders quickened his pace. Taking Hawke's length in his grip, he pumped his cock in time with his thrusts. They were lost in oblivion together, a scorching bliss setting their bodies alight. All the foreplay, the kisses, sucking, biting, licking...it did him in, Hawke clutched at Anders arms, the sheets, anything. He came hard, breathlessly, panting. The sudden spasm caused Hawke to tighten internally, Anders came within his lover soon after.

"Aaah...aaahungh" the healer instinctively pushed further inside, his cock twitching in pleasant release.

He pulled out, exhausted, sweating. Laying down next to Hawke, their eyes found each other's once more. "I don't know what to say Anders" Hawke's voice was coarse "It was quite...the ride". Anders smiled contently to himself "Hopefully I can lead by example"

Hawke's face lit up at the suggestion "I'm going to take you up on that offer"

The blond snuggled closer to the other man, sighing "hmm...I hope you do"

*

Hawke came messily into his hand, staring up at the canopy for a scant few seconds, lost in the most satisfied state he'd allowed himself in a while. Shuffling carefully off the bed, as to not touch anything, Hawke left the bedroom and walked over the wash-basin.

"...nasty sticky mess you are Hawke" he murmured, a grim feeling of self-disgust now creeping into his belly. He wondered if it had been worth pleasuring himself to the thought of Anders. In the back of his brain a voice scoffed,

_Of course it was_

Luke-warm water dispelled the evidence of his actions, Hawke grabbed a cloth from a table and wiped his hands down. He sighed, feeling how weighted reality was now that his fantasy was over. He supposed now he was well enough to begin his journey back to Ferelden, maybe he could start a better life there, find a young fertile lass and start a family. He mused that Anders would be both the first and last man he'd ever have.

As soon as Hawke was in the hall, he became perfectly aware he was no longer alone in the house. Looking down from the landing, the world became painfully slow as his gaze locked with a familiar stare.

"Bodahn?" The dwarf was white as a sheet, wringing his hands, he tore his eyes away quickly. There was another person that emerged from behind him, a Templar with dark hair.

"Carver?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you shouldn't, that's my bum!


	6. Gone Quietly

Hawke's afternoon quickly turned sour, like being slapped awake from a nice dream. Pressing his lips thin as wire in a cheerless smile, "I can't imagine this is just a social call is it brother?"  he asked softly, a tone Carver would take as condescending instead of submissive.

_Too easy...too convenient._

"No I don't believe we have that pleasure any longer" his voice was stiff, "Small tragedies as they say" unyielding; a carefully built defence made just for this occasion "You'll come with me to the Gallows, and you will be dealt with there."

Gilded eyes watched Hawke pace calmly, a taught body ready to pounce; all adrenaline. The atmosphere could be pierced with a knife.

Hawke was perfectly aware he was pinned through the back in a glass case; never a chance to fly again.

"If I don't?" Hawke knew the threat was empty, aside from the fact that Carver was a Templar and his brother, there had to be some other leverage just to sweeten the proposition. Carver looked down at Bodahn, who was swaying gently on the spot, like a vase precariously close to falling and shattering; the stench of cheap mead was hanging in the air. "If you don't come, Sandal dies" there was a pause, all defences crushed underneath the pressure; fear spilled out of Carver's voice, a small boy afraid of monsters under the bed "I die."

Pleading, a subtext of _'help me brother'._

Hawke didn't know it was possible to see someone tremble through heavy armour, but there was little Carver, shaken to his boots. Things never went easily for them, adversaries from the moment Carver and Bethany had been born, the outcast amongst mages; the unsubtle irony of being disappointingly ordinary. Hawke found himself chewing his lip, an unconscious habit until he tasted blood. Glancing at Bodahn's sorry state, he knew what his options were, where his loyalties lied. "Anders isn't with me Carver" he said airily, resentment stitched in between words. The admission felt like a betrayal, like he was offering this information in exchange for mercy. But there would be no mercy for either them; he regretted it immediately, he was being petulant. 

_You don't want me, you want him right?_

Hawke knew who was coveted, who's death would sate Sebastian's bloody threat; given he was an apostate and fugitive himself, capturing Anders would likely be the only thing stopping all out war. The destruction of Kirkwall was balancing so finely on a cliff edge; the world became perceptibly tilted to Hawke.

"It doesn't matter now..." the words settled in the room like debris, barely there; this was Carver begging.  
  
 _And this is Hawke, complying._

Hawke came down from the landing, arms held out, waiting for their chains. They came, instantly heavy on Hawke's wrists, the metal laced with something that burned and tingled on his skin. He felt distant, floating in space amongst the stars; it was dark and he could barely breath. 

"...I'm sorry Garrett"

The voice wasn't enough to bring Hawke back, for now he was lost, resigned. This was his punishment for running, for loving a man who never committed to anything but himself.

This was his punishment looking back upon Kirkwall that day.

 

* * *

 

"Where is he now?"

The voice was flat, Carver watched as Cullen shifted his weight to one side, any visible emotion was lost from the back.

"He's being stripped in one of the cells down in the prison" Carver paused, the thought of his brother naked in front of his colleagues was not pleasant. "He was in the estate alone"

Cullen sighed, turning to face the Templar. He looked worn, old, too much on his mind. "Your burden was to bring your brother to us, I had taken into consideration this might be the case" pale eyes darting, looking for some answer that was impossible to retrieve "...I have no ill feelings for Hawke. But Starkhaven's threat isn't something we can easily over look. If he has information Carver, you must extract it from him. Hopefully he is willing to be open with you, but I feel things are not going to be so easy. I am thankful enough he came without a fight...is it really true...?"

Carver chewed on the inside of his cheek "That...they're lovers?"

Cullen nodded stiffly, answered in like by Carver; somehow saying the word out loud would make things even more unpleasant.

"How do you propose I go about asking him, Knight-Commander?" 

Cullen shrugged, his body seemed ready to collapse "He's your brother, you can convince him...whatever ways you deem suitable"; the man's voice was thick with submission. The subject was only there by suggestion, Cullen wasn't going to openly say what the options were.

"Hawke is under your thumb, please come to me as soon as anything arises."

Carver went for the door, "Wait-Carver," he turned and looked at his weary Knight-Commander; it was obvious Hawke's capture was not something he found palatable, Hawke was his friend after all.

"...I'm trusting you with this because he is your family."

Carver turned back to the door and shut it quietly behind him.

When Cullen had first told him his mission, Carver felt lost. He knew helping his brother fight with the mages would not be looked upon kindly, but he did it any ways, out of a sense of loyalty. Once he'd been placed in charge of Hawke's arrest, he'd done it ruthlessly. Something inside of his heart had been set on fire, wild and crazed; he thirsted for the prestige.The more he'd thought about it, the more he realised he wanted this. So he accomplished it through any means, threatening and lying to Bodahn, playing the torn sorry brother. He wanted Hawke in a cell, afraid of their next encounter. He wanted to see Hawke tremble at the mere thought of his name.

This was how he'd stop Starkhaven's onslaught.

He felt deadly, powerful, controlling over the one thing in his life that had always overshadowed him. This was his chance to bring peace to Kirkwall, to show everyone, to show Cullen, that he was worthy of praise; Carver Hawke would be a hero, the man who single handedly captured the wanted maleficars and brought them to justice.

He would get that information; or he would have Hawke begging to be made Tranquil.

His heart was racing, nearly jumping out of his chest. Everything he wanted was falling into his lap, moistening his lips he paced brusquely down the stone corridor. He smiled excitedly to himself; it was unkind and cold.

_Brother, you are in my shadow now._

 

 

 


End file.
